Squat

is it an age or a stage
this obsession with holding on letting go
maybe there's more at stake
than putting a weigh across my back
and going through the motions of crouching and standing
( shitting in the woods)
with impeccable form
beautifully balanced feet await
buttocks leading the action
downwards
aligned, cantilevered
core engaged and unyielding
supporting a spine in/delicate
extension riding the relentless
rhythms of inhale
into preparedness
exhale into exertion
a bellows insistent on its own necessity
after all
what is more basic than breath
bone or gesture...
choice perhaps (?)
an entity vastly different from preference
and it frightens me
how much I have riding on that
distinction
heavy as the weight I go through the motions of carrying
a stubborn ass needs a stubborn driver
possibly the perverse appeal of squat
early on
I remember the anxiety of preference
it plagues me sometimes
how it plagues me still
unnerves me
although even that last vestige has given way...
softness beckons
... unexpectedly & delightfully
your kindness
touches everything
changes everything
begotten, beloved
I shiver with a deep gladness

if a work is mine to do
it will make me glad over the long haul
despite the difficult days
if a work does not gladden me in these ways
I need to consider laying it down